


A Candle, Burnt From Both Ends

by aplacetoland



Category: Rocketman (2019)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Bernie Taupin's A Softy, But First Drugs, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Elton John is temperamental, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, John Reid You Asshole, M/M, i wrote this at one in the morning, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 18:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aplacetoland/pseuds/aplacetoland
Summary: Bernie knew Heather was a mistake. He's been itching to tell Elton his feelings - His true feelings, that is. One day, he might get to, if John Reid wasn't an absolute prick.





	A Candle, Burnt From Both Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys. (: So this is my first attempt at anything Rocketman, but I couldn't help but to write something about our beautiful babes.
> 
> A reminder that this is NOT Real Person Fiction, but solely based off of the movie, Rocketman, and its characters.

Second-hand elevated state of mind and the aftertaste of white wine lingered on his tongue while his chin rested idly — and a tad sulkily — within his palm. Laughter and light music, the bright stretch of fire light dancing across their faces, a quiet crowd of misfits joined together by a cabin to celebrate a ‘party’. Well, it was a party, but with parties came celebration.

Elton John was high; Well, slightly. As stated before, second hand. Yet, he was entirely unsure what celebration he was meant to be enthusiastic about.

Maybe it was the fact that he just successfully played at the Troubadour without sounding rubbish. At least, that’s what Elton _should_ have been elated about, for he felt such while playing his piano, tossing his foot upon the keys, interluding into a vibrant melody that sent every listener off their feet — even the Beach Boys.

The glass still remained between his fingertips. The bottom of the rounded container held just a sliver of wine, a silver dollar of clear and tasteful substance, at least to some people. He had only consumed half a glass, and despite the need for more, his legs were unable to carry the upper half of his body, or themselves.

Had he had a beer earlier? Perhaps he had.

He was sitting upon the steps, towards the back of the country home. The glass came out of his hand at one point or another, but he didn’t recall placing it down — It was next to him, now, though, and despite not being able to remember such a simple action, previous events before were as clear as day in his mind.

Slow movements, twisting and turning around the fire, heels just barely remaining in place as a graceful giraffe taunted a lion. Heather had been rather fond of Bernie very swiftly, interlacing the slim shape of her fingertips with his, keeping a hand upon the shoulder blades of his back as if she knew him oh so very well.

Elton knew Bernie. Not Heather. Not anyone.

He had grown exhausted towards the sight of his unrequited partner dancing with another, simultaneously upset and grateful to watch them walk off to the tents, or whatever it was Bernie had stated they were going to go.

Yeah, the tents. Ninety-percent sure about it.

“You should always rely on the kindness of strangers.”

Elton, for a moment, forgot himself. He was having a conversation, with a very pretty man who offered a very pretty accent. His eyes were as gentle as ever, for he gazed upon Elton as if he could give him the universe — Perhaps not appropriately, but Elton was hazy from the few drinks he had and the current one he was consuming.

Maybe this man could help him forget completely.

Well, no, not completely. But temporarily, Bernie slipped his mind. The ever-dreading thought of whatever it was that they were doing in that tent was out of his mind for the time being, and subconsciously, Elton was thankful for it.

At the same time, he should have known better. No stranger, despite how kind, could immediately replace Bernie as such.

Elton was silently hoping he would, and that his feelings would get on with it.

John Reid was his name — Elton caught his name earlier, when the man had finally introduced himself, but it didn’t fully register until this moment. He was a manager of music, and hoped to take Elton by the hand and help him rule the world.

Maybe the exaggeration was in Elton’s mind, but either way.

Doe eyed and dozing off, John’s fingertips felt like silk as they slid around Elton’s waist. They were still sitting at the back of the cabin, upon the steps, but it had grown silent, or at least quieter than before. People had driven off, others had passed out, and many were still relaxing by the camp fires contently.

“Why don’t we go somewhere private?” John asked softly, breath warm again his ear, a blossoming flower of tenderness enveloping Elton’s chest. “I have a place nearby...” He absently leaned into the sensation, and a light sound barely pushed past his lips in response — He nodded. 

Elton wasn’t shit-faced, but he was dopey, and was having trouble fully grasping his surroundings. It was unfamiliar haze, one where he was in control yet felt as if he were walking on air. Or eggshells.

Were both a possibility?

He was walking back to the car with John, a car, maybe his car, but he wasn’t going to drive — John had a driver, and the only word of thought Elton could muster was _fancy_.

He was half-way into the car when the softness of a familiar voice filled his ears. — “Elton?”

Bernie, of course. He had caught him just in time, caught John helping Elton into the backseat of his black cabbie, who stared upon the man with a sour look.

“Bernie,” Elton called involuntarily, the words leaving his lips so swiftly yet so surely. “Where’s Heathe—“

“I really need to talk to you.” Bernie stated, casting a glance to John briefly, and back to his best friend.

“No, no, go— Go have fun with your girl, Bernie.” He stated, and a bit of that sulkiness came back. Yeah, fat load of fun Bernie must be having with Heather.

Well, Elton’s got a Heather, too — Kind of. He has a John Reid, which, in his mind, is tenfold better.

“Come on, Elton.” John coaxed, starting to help him into the backseat again.

“Hold on a second,” Bernie said, taking a few steps forward, finding Elton’s eyes. Gaze, soft as it always was, would not leave his pupils. Elton, for a moment, lost himself again. His chest ached because those eyes would never leave his thoughts, and Bernie would never be his. “It’s important.”

“I’m sure it could wait until tomorrow.” John stated pointedly.

“Really can’t, actually.” Bernie said in return, a bit of firmness to his tone. 

Elton paused for a moment, unsure. Bernie’s words seemed genuine, and he never enjoyed pushing aside his best friend’s needs. Whenever Bernie needed him, Elton wanted to be there. Yet, Bernie chose Heather tonight. He was with her, or at least, he was supposed to be at the moment. A slight of irritation flushed within his veins, and his stare hardened slightly as he gazed upon his best friend. “No, I think it can. Have fun with Heather, Bernie.” He said, and then slid into the car fully.

John sent Bernie a wink as he shut the car door, and the cabbie was off in no time.

*

“I’m gonna take care’a you now, Elton.” John whispered softly, planting kisses along Elton’s neck, collarbone and jaw as they lay within John’s bed. He hadn’t realized just how wonderful it was, the intimacy between two people, and how relieving it was to have someone there who cared for him. After all, it was Elton’s first time.

Having sex, that is.

_I’ve finally done it_ , Elton thought. _I’m finally ordinary_.

He had come down from his high, after a while, yet was elevated by John’s apparent love. John was going to take care of him now. John was soft, and sweet, and kindhearted.

His body felt exhausted, and so his eyelids were shut as John peppered his skin in tender  
kisses, before finally settling down, entangling his fingers within Elton’s hair.

Elton shut his eyes, guiding John closer.

He didn’t think about Bernie for the rest of the night.

*

“Where’s Heather these days?”

Bernie glanced up from his hot mug of coffee, spooning some sugar into the beverage and stirring it slowly. The two of them hadn’t spoken properly in a while, not as they used to, at least, but for some reason, being with Bernie allowed warm puffs and clouds of memories to resurface. There was no reason for Reggie to be negative at the moment, aside from the fact that John was booking him too many shows at once, and that he barely saw his best friend anymore. The exhaustion was really starting to shine through.

“I told you, Elton — Heather and I ended a long time ago... We weren’t ever a thing, really.” Bernie explained, leaning back within the cafe’s chair.

“You told me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Oh.”

Bernie stirred his coffee a little more.

“So, then... Who—?”

“No one at the moment.”

“Right. Sorry.” Reggie murmured, glancing down to the couple of songs Bernie had brought for him. 

“How’s John?” He asked in return, cocking a brow.

“Oh, fine. Yeah. He’s, uhm... Well, he’s been talking about taking me shopping. Says I should buy something new.”

“Really?” Bernie tilted his head. “I like your outfits.” A light smile appeared at his lips, and Elton was sure every time Bernie smiled, his heart skipped a beat. “Especially your overalls.”

Reggie chuckled at that, glancing down to his hands again, but not to avoid Bernie’s stare. His face flushed with color, and he was reminded how much he enjoyed spending time with Bernie. “Well... John thinks I should spruce it up a bit.” He explained. “Which... I have to admit, I do like shopping.”

Bernie nodded, tapping his fingers upon the table as he leaned back in his chair. “Right. That’s fine. I just don’t want you to lose touch with yourself.”

Elton smiled a little, glancing up to Bernie with utmost gentleness.

“Come have a drink with us tonight.” Bernie said, tilting his head. “Ray, a couple of friends and I.”

“Oh, I— I can’t.” He shook his head, sitting up in his chair a tad. “I have a show tomorrow. Have to get there early.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you can come.” Elton suggested with a smile. “To the show.”

“Oh? Where is it?”

“New York.”

Bernie chuckled. “New York? Elton, that’s across the world.”

“So— Come with me. We’ve been to America before. I’ll have John buy you an extra ticket.” Reggie said, leaning forward a bit. “It’s just for a few nights. Then I can fly you back.”

“This tour is wearing you out, Reg.” Bernie said, concern laced within his tone. “You look as if you haven’t slept in days.”

In a way, Elton really hadn’t. He’d been up, preparing for shows or spending the nights drinking. He’d even dabbled with prescription drugs, just a little, among other things.

It peeled away his exhaustion, for the moment. Somehow the tiredness always came creeping back.

“I miss when you came along.” Elton said in return. “I know you used to come to a lot of shows, but... New York has the biggest nights. Greatest crowds. I can get you a perfect seat.”

Bernie sighed. “It’s not travel that’s the problem, Elton.”

He tilted his head.

“I don’t think John likes me very much.” He pointed out.

“Oh... I wouldn’t say—“

“He doesn’t.” Bernie said, a bit more firmly, though his expression remained tender. “I’m sure if he had the ability to fire me, he would.”

“Don’t say that, Bernie, John is just... He’s... Well, he’s wary.” He mumbled. “Nothing personal.”

“Mm.” Bernie leaned back with a sigh. “Well, if you can get me that extra plane ticket...”

Elton’s expression lit up instantly. “You’ll come?”

Bernie chuckled. “Of course I’ll come. I’ll have to pull a couple of strings at work, but... I can’t leave my best mate, can I?”

*

It turned out, in fact, that Bernie would not be coming to New York.

“You know how I feel about Bernie around, Elton...”

“Bernie’s my best friend.” Elton pointed out, tugging off his jeans to grow comfortable for the night, kicking them off and placing them aside. He then approached the bed where John had removed his clothing for bed as well, both of them wearing only briefs. Crawling into bed, he scooted himself close to John with a sigh of exhaustion.

“I know, but... I don’t believe he has your best interests in mind.” John said, a tad firmly, accent growing thicker. Despite such, he guided Elton closer and placed a kiss upon the side of his head, nosing his cheek lovingly. “You know I always know what’s best.”

Elton exhaled. “I know.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m exhausted, I...”

John hushed him, sliding a finger beneath his chin to turn Elton’s face to his, leaning in to place his lips against his lover’s. Elton relaxed considerably at the touch, exhaling through his nostrils, returning the soft gesture.

Pulling back after a moment, John caressed his cheek. “You’ll have a couple of days of rest soon, you know. Finish off these next two weeks, and I’ll fly you back here. We can rest for s’long as you’d like.”

Elton smiled a little, pecking John’s lips once. “You promise?”

John grinned, brushing some of Elton’s ( thinning ) hair away from his face. “Cross my heart, darling.”

“Okay.” He nodded, snuggling himself into John’s chest. He bit his lip for a moment in thought. “So, Bernie...?”

“Out of the question, Elton. I’ve already told you no.” John said, though he continued the gentle touches.

Elton nodded, sighing in defeat as he allowed his eyes to flutter shut.

“Elton?”

“Mm?”

“What do you think about us buying a mansion?”

*

Bernie ended up buying himself a ticket after Elton told him the news that he wouldn’t be allowed to come to New York. For a rubbish reason, by the way. He could tell by Elton’s poor excuse over the phone that John was right behind it.

As expected, Elton was instantly excited to see Bernie front and center in the crowd at his concert as soon as he got on, and played the best he had in a long time.

“I can’t believe you came!” Elton stated enthusiastically as he met Bernie behind stage, throwing his arms around his best friend.

Bernie laughed, hugging him back tightly, eyelids squeezing shut. “Of course I did.”

“How did you get here?” Elton asked, pulling back as his hands remained upon Bernie’s shoulders.

“Oh, I flew here. You know, grew feathers, wings and all.”

Reggie chuckled at Bernie’s rather corny joke, pulling him in for another tight hug before he brought himself back completely. “I’m really glad you‘re here.”

“Bernie.”

Both Bernie and Elton glanced over when John stepped into the room, sliding past a couple of staff members to approach the two men. As soon as he arrived, his hand slid possessively around Elton’s hip, and he tugged him close, offering Bernie a false grin. “I didn’t expect you to be joining us tonight.”

“No? Well, I’m here now.” Bernie flashed Elton a smile. “Hope that doesn’t pose too much of a problem.”

“Of course not.” John replied, thumb circling Elton’s lower side. “Elton has a very busy schedule, though— Off to meet some very eager press and a couple of very important people. You best be on your way.”

“He can come,” Elton piped up, though John sent him a warning glare.

“Oh, I can? You know, that would be just lovely.” Bernie beamed.

“I fear there’s no room in the cab.” John said. Another poor excuse.

“I do have a car of my own, you know. I even drive it.” Bernie rose a brow in John’s direction.

“Maybe another time.” John said, and his smile returned, just as untrue. “Come, Elton. A good friend of mind wishes to see you.”

Elton glanced over his shoulder as he was turned the other way, sending a wave goodbye to Bernie as they head out and away from one another.

*

The first time John hit Elton, he was a mess. He was high, drunk, and just got off the phone with his mother. Not to mention, she told him he’d never be loved — Not properly, anyway.

The second time he hit harder.

They were inside of their very newly bought home — or mansion, as one should rightfully call it — and Elton had just finished doing a couple of lines inside of their bedroom.

His head was spinning, and he hadn’t had a proper meal since... Well, since whenever he _did_ have one. He had ended up passing out on the bed, and when John eventually arrived home, he was furious to see Elton covered in his own saliva and blotches of cocaine.

“You can try and kill yourself all you’d like, Elton, but you have a job to do. I can’t let you rest ‘til that job is finished.” John said, shaking his head as he paced the room.

“Yeah?” Elton sat up, maybe a little too fast — Black spots flooded his vision, and he inwardly groaned at the sudden headache at the sides of his temples.

John let out a small scoff. “You’re pathetic, Elton. You can’t even keep yourself up.”

Elton finally managed to stand, beginning to approach — one would say stumble — over to John. “You— You don’t even give a _shit_ about me.”

“Oh, I don’t? Do you realize how many times I’ve brough’ you out’a the gutter?”

“Fuck you,” Elton spat, and in an instant, John’s hand came up, and he smacked him square in the jaw. Stumbling back, Elton was lucky that the back of his shins were met with the bed and not a glass object of furniture, for he slipped from his feet as soon as he hit it. His head never stopped spinning, but he knew he landed upon the mattress of the bed.

“You understand,” John stated, approaching the robed Elton, who only had a pair of briefs on underneath, “not to disrespect me like that. Or do I have to show you again why?” He asked, raising his hand once more.

Elton visibly flinched as his hand was raised, though he nodded, glancing away. His hand was smoothing over the spot John hit, which was swiftly beginning to bruise.

“Good.” John slowly brought his hand back down. “Now put your clothes on, and clean yourself up. You can’t go on about smelling like that. You fucking stink.”

Elton’s guard had been up until John left the room. After such, he stumbled to the bathroom, vomited into the toilet and took a half hour to get into his clothes properly.

He wasn’t even sure what day it was.

*

Bernie wasn’t one to pry. Not usually, anyway, for he went about his way, minded his own business, and only intervened when need be. This day, of course, was a day that was absolutely within the intervening category.

Despite the dry spell of song lyrics lately, it was seemingly last night that Bernie was able to miracle up a song — One he had to get to Elton immediately, for he hadn’t heard from Elton in a little while, and was starting to worry about him.

Elton’s suicide attempt didn’t help any. Bernie had tried to check up on him frequently, but John made it near-impossible for him to ever see his best friend, and Elton had grown cold towards him as well. Most days that Bernie spoke to Elton, he was shitfaced, high and on the verge of passing out. It didn’t help that with he seeing Elton like that, it took a mental toll on him.

Today, however, was more than an exception. He hadn’t heard from Elton in months. It was beginning to worry him, for John was probably wearing Elton down to the bone without break. Elton wouldn’t call, wouldn’t send a message to let him know he was okay, and despite figuring that Elton hated him, he was concerned.

He needed to see him again. He needed to see Elton.

So, of course, it was one of those days where he drove in without warning. He pulled through the gates ( answered by one of the housekeepers), parked, and shoved the keys of his car into his pocket. The house was fucking huge. No matter how many times he had seen the place, he was still mesmerized by it.

It was so very Elton John, and at the same time, it absolutely wasn’t.

He approached the front door and felt silly as he almost knocked. No one could have possibly heard him from here, for Elton was probably within the rooms, either still sleeping ( despite it being one in the afternoon ), or out at the studio. He hoped it was the former.

When he rang the doorbell, the tone was extravagant — Again, very Elton, but with a twist that just said _John_. Nonetheless, a minute later the housekeeper opened the door, and gave Bernie a smile. She was well-dressed and clean, probably working the day job.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah— Is... Is Elton here?”

“Yes. Who’s asking?”

“Bernie. Uh, Bernie Taupin, from the gate—“ He said, offering his hand for her to shake, and she did. “Can I see him?”

“Certainly. He’s right up in his room.”

Bernie rose a brow, thanking her as he stepped in. “When’s the last he came out?”

“Early this morning, I believe.” She stated, offering to take Bernie’s jacket. “My co-workers said around four in the morning.”

A frown appeared upon his face. “Has he eaten at all?”

“I’m not sure, sir, I apologize. I’ve only just arrived an hour or so ago. Can I help you to anything?”

“No— No, thank you. I’ll just be on my way up.”

“Of course.” She smiled, before returning to her duties in the other room.

Bernie head up the stairs, almost afraid to see what state Elton was actually in. If he hadn’t eaten, he probably had been filling up on vodka and drugs. He really didn’t wish to see, but at the same time, his feet carried him almost hurriedly to try and find him.

That was another thing — He wasn’t actually sure which room Elton was in. He wasn’t even sure which bedroom was which. Despite being here before, a house full of people looked much different when it was vacated.

Thankfully, many of the room doors were open, and so a quick peek inside was all it took to see if he was in there or not. He found a couple of empty rooms with closed doors, but finally came across the correct one as he approached the end of the hall, remembering how he had found Elton to himself alone at the party in that very room moments before he threw himself into the pool.

He raised his fist, and knocked upon the door.

It was quiet at first. Bernie knocked again, and then —

Shuffling. Was that a groan?

“Jus’... leav’me alone.”

Elton’s voice.

Bernie inhaled a little to prepare himself, stepping closer. “Elton— Elton, it’s me.”

More shuffling. Something clattered to the floor, and Bernie inwardly cringed.

“...Bernie?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

There were sluggish footsteps, slow paced but wobbly, and the door handle took a bit of a tumble before the room swung open.

Elton was standing there, and for a moment, Bernie nearly didn’t recognize him. He had lost a considerable amount of hair since he’s last seen him, nearly balding, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were not of laughing matter. The years were told through the lines in his face, and the room held the stench of alcohol, and most likely vomit. Elton looked tired, with bloodshot eyes and unbalanced posture.

“I didn’t know you were, uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck, not even bothering to cover himself with his robe. He was wearing a nice pair of what looked like silk underwear underneath, yet it was very sheer.

Overall, Elton smelled as if he hadn’t showered in days.

“Didn’t know you were coming,” Elton said, finishing his thought.

“To be honest, I didn’t either.” Bernie stated truthfully.

Elton seemed to be pondering for a bit, before his face grew slightly in annoyance. “Didn’t even bother to call then, did you?”

He rose a brow in response.

“Yeah, I know. You could give less of a shit about me.” He said, finally grasping the edges of his robe to tug it around a malnourished frame, back turning to Bernie as he head more into the room.

“I don’t believe that’s true, Reg. I’ve cal—“

“Elton,” He corrected sharply, klutzy as he dragged himself to the coffee table to pour himself a glass of... well, not something good, that’s for sure.

Bernie took a good look around. Brief, but thorough. As expected, the night table was coated in remnants of cocaine lines, and a half-empty bottle of prescription drugs were left upon the bed. Some were even spilt on the unmade comforter. “Right, Elton.” He said, looking to his friend. “You’ve forgotten about the old you.”

“There is no _old_ me, Bernie.” He huffed, downing his vodka and tonic, lazily wiping at his chin as he set the glass down. “S’who I’ve always been.” He wiped at his nose next, sniffling.

“I don’t think I can agree with that.” He exhaled. “You’re on a campaign to kill yourself at this point. Figuratively and literally.”

“You don’t know anythng about me. You never have! Never will. I don’t even know why you bothered coming,” Elton practically slurred, beginning to step towards his bed, but he nearly fell mid-step. Bernie was there to surge forward and catch Elton before he hit the ground, hoisting him up on his feet with a soft sigh.

“Okay. Let’s get some food into you.” Bernie said, voice growing tender and understanding as it usually had around him.

“M’fine.” He grumbled, but didn’t seem particularly bothered by the sudden pair of arms around him. John had been none but cold to him since the suicide attempt, even beforehand, and he was touch-starved. The most attention he received these days was coffee in the morning from his house keepers.

“Course you are, now that I’m here.” Bernie said, moving to set Elton down upon the edge of the bed. “Stay here, okay? I’m going to go and see what the housekeepers can do for you.”

“I said I’m—“

“Fine. I know. But I don’t know the last time you’ve eaten, and you can’t neglect what your body needs. You’re not arguing with me on this one.” Bernie stated, a bit more solidly, yet his tone remained gentle.

Elton remained quiet for a moment of time, before he nodded.

“Good.” Bernie said, and he took one last look at Elton before exiting the room. He was quick with the housekeepers, asking for a simple but healthy and filling breakfast for his friend, before rushing back up the stairs two at a time to find Elton again. When he returned, Elton was now laying upon his back on his bed, trying to collect the prescription pills into his palm. “No— Elton,” He rushed over, prying the pills from his hand.

Elton tried to fight back, but his grip was much too weak in comparison to Bernie’s at the moment. He grumbled, and threw an arm over his eyes. “Head’s spinning.” He murmured.

“That’s because all you’ve had in the last few days is alcohol and cocaine. Not exactly a hearty meal, is it?” Bernie said calmly, with a twinge of sarcasm to his tone. He placed the pills back into the container and capped it, taking another look around the room.

This place probably needed a clean-up.

Elton was busy trying to have his head stop pounding while Bernie straightened up, wiping down the tables and removing any items that might tempt him. The housekeeper came up at some point with breakfast, and offered to help clean up the rest while Bernie tackled the issue of actually getting food into Elton’s body.

Bernie placed the food upon the tray table, setting it next to the bed and situating himself next to where Elton lay. “Elton—“ He started, reaching to place a hand upon his shoulder, but Elton jumped in response, almost trying to shy away from his touch. This worried him instantly.

When he realized it was just Bernie again, he calmed, and his eyelids squeezed shut from opening them too swiftly.

“It’s all right. Take a moment.” Bernie encouraged softly. “The housekeeper— Maggie, she’s made you some sausage, eggs and toast.”

Elton grumbled once more, shaking his head.

“Well, you have to eat, Elton.” Bernie stated, hand remaining upon his shoulder, though he began to encourage him to sit up fully. “It smells quite good, actually.”

When one of the housekeepers finished, she exited the room with a bag and a couple of cleaning supplies, shutting the door behind her.

“Can’t.” Elton mumbled, scrubbing at his eyes.

“You can.” Bernie replied, reaching for the tray to pick up the knife and fork, beginning to cut into the sausage as chewable bites for his friend. “There. Here, just have a little.”

Elton finally opened his eyes, for a moment, his stomach grumbled at the sight and smell of food. After a second or two, however, his insides churned as the nausea had risen, and he groaned, eyes closing once more. “Gonna throw up.”

“Okay— All right, let’s get you to the bathr—“

Too late. In an instant, whatever had been within Elton came up — It was mostly liquid, definitely alcohol, and a pill that he must have just swallowed before Bernie came up here. It went all over himself, as well as the comforter. Bernie was fortunate enough to just miss the line of fire.

Clean-up was hard enough. He repositioned Elton to one of the chairs as he bundled the sheets together, and Maggie came up at some point when she figured Bernie needed assistance. She helped to discard of the blankets and offered to clean Elton up as well, but Bernie assured her that he’d be able to take care of that himself.

“Okay— Elton? Come on, you have to work with me here.” Bernie said, starting to hook his arms underneath Elton’s to guide him out of the chair. “We’re going to get you in the shower. Maggie, she’s running you a nice hot bath, and even covering your food so it doesn’t get cold.”

“Nngh... Can’t— Can’t move—“

“Yes, you can. Come on,” Bernie said, finally managing to get Elton on his feet, maneuvering an arm around his shoulders so that Elton didn’t fall again. He seemed entirely and completely out of it. John wasn’t even around to be here and watch over Elton, take care of him, but as far as Bernie knew, he should have expected that.

Getting Elton in the bath was more of a challenge than the food, which, by the way, he hadn’t even gotten to try and give to his best friend. The robe was easy enough to take off, but Elton was giving Bernie a hard time about his briefs, and at one point or another Bernie grew frustrated and cut them right off his body. Elton was much too disoriented to fully notice, but once he finally got him in the tub, Elton seemed to relax a bit more — And so did Bernie.

It was quiet for a while after that. Bernie had rolled up the sleeves of his light blue button-up to refrain from getting water on them, scrubbing Elton down with the soap gently to rinse him of sweat, vomit and other bodily fluids that only Lord knows what it was. Elton kept his eyes shut, but did the best he could to help Bernie when he rinsed his hair.

He was smoothing the soap over Elton’s chest when he had spoken up. “Why didn’t you call?”

Bernie tilted his head, expression growing tender. “I did call, Elton. Many times. I even sent you a few letters.”

Elton’s facial features had softened as well, despite the harshness to his skin. “You wrote me letters?” He asked, as if he figured no one ever would.

“Yeah, I did. Sent you a couple of lyrics, too.” Bernie explained, finding his eyes.

He frowned a tad. “I didn’t get any of them.”

He thought for a moment of time, setting the soap aside and rinsing it from Elton’s skin. “Not one?” He asked, and Elton shook his head.

Elton seemed to be thinking as well, at least, the best he could while still nauseated and partially drunk. Then, he frowned much more deeply and huffed, bringing his warm and wet hands to his face to wipe at his eyes. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“John,” He murmured. “He must’ve— Must’ve snatched them.” He said. “Directed my calls to him.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.” Bernie said, looking to his friend. “Where is Reid? I thought that you two were, uhm...”

Together.

“Yes,” Elton said quietly, though he seemed opposed to even affiliating himself with John. “We still are.”

He nodded in understanding, not wanting to stress Elton further by talking about it. “Okay.” He said, gently reaching out to bring his hand to Elton’s leg, grazing a thumb over a dark bruise on his upper thigh. “I’m assuming this was him, then.”

Elton flushed, moving Bernie’s hand away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.” Bernie said softly. “Maybe not to you, but it does to me.”

Elton glanced to him. He felt as if he would cry. At least, his eyes were telling him such.

“Come on.” He whispered. “Let’s get you out of this bath.”

*

Bernie didn’t expect Elton to be fully okay with eating again, and of course, he wasn’t — But after a little bit of convincing and a nice tray of sausage and eggs brought for Bernie as well, Elton finally agreed to having just a little.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast at three in the afternoon.” Bernie laughed, crinkles forming at the edges of his eyes.

Elton could watch Bernie laugh forever.

“Yeah.” He said, for it’s all the raspiness of his voice could muster. He was still having a hard time trying to swallow any of the egg, and resorted to nibbling on the toast for now.

“You don’t have to finish it.” He said after a moment. He didn’t want Elton to force it down, just for it to come up again. “Just... eat as much as you can, okay? I promise you’ll feel better afterwards.”

He just nodded, but he really couldn’t eat much more. He had about half of the toast and a couple of bites of the egg before his stomach turned against him again. Bernie ushered him to lay down, not wanting to have to undress and dress him again, for he seemed comfortable in the pajama pants and tank top he had on. It was the most normal, or at least most comfortable, item of clothing Bernie could find for him. He didn’t want Elton to soil those as well, not another pair of clothing.

“Better now?” Bernie asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, next to where Elton had been laying down.

“A little.” Elton said quietly. His fingertips were fidgety, and he felt as if he needed something, anything to calm him down. Coming down from his high was complicated, and although the food helped to absorb some of the alcohol, that didn’t change the amount of cocaine inside of him.

“Relax,” He said, kindhearted as ever, and he reached out to place a hand over Elton’s. “Easier said than done, I know...”

“I can’t— Fuck, Bernie, I can’t just _relax_ ,” He mumbled in a panic, but quieted slightly as he felt a hand over his chest as well. Bernie was coaxing him to lay back down and, God, Jesus _fucking_ Christ, he missed Bernie. He missed him so much. Fingertips moved to wrap around his palm, and he squeezed it tightly, glancing over to his best friend with absolute vulnerability.

To make Elton’s case of relaxing easier, there was a slam of a door downstairs. His eyes easily flew wide, and it didn’t take Bernie too long to figure who that was.

Elton’s grip tightened around Bernie’s hand, and he even tried to sit up a little, trying to prepare for what was about to come as footsteps marched up the stairs.

As expected, the door knob twisted and John stepped through, dressed impeccably and clean to pristine quality. He seemed furious, though it was the sort of anger that was layered underneath, for after seeing Bernie’s car outside, Elton knew he was going to hear a mouthful.

John glanced between them. “Bernie — You’re here.”

“Oh, that I am.” Bernie grinned, grazing his thumb over Elton’s knuckles. Elton nearly turned to mush at such a simple gesture. “Elton and I here were just chatting.”

“Wonderful — We all love a good chat. In fact, I need to have one with Elton righ’ now. Alone, preferably.” John said.

“Well, I think that’s just the best joke you’ve told all year.” Bernie said, tilting his head.

John squinted a bit. “Excuse me?”

“You must be either joking or mad if you think I’m going to leave you alone with him.” He said in return, calm as ever.

“Anything you say to me,” Elton started, “You can say to Bernie, too.”

“Right. Would you like me to tell Bernie about all the days you’ve missed in the studio? All that recording time I’ve paid for, lost?” John said heavily.

“You paid for them?” Bernie asked. “Or Elton?”

John went silent for a moment, expression growing irritated.

“Right,” Bernie continued, “So, no burden on you, then. Elton’s been under the weather, though, really unable to sing. I think you’d know that if you spent just a lick more time with him.”

“It’s not me who’s losing money,” John said, “Elton is the one who’s not making any songs—“

“Not you losing the money? After you’ve just said that you paid for those studio sessions?” Bernie furrowed his brow, and Elton hid a small smile. “That doesn’t seem right to me.”

“I came ta’ pick him up. There’s a cab ou’side. And seeing as you’ve already dressed and fed him, he should be on his way now.” Reid stated, glaring at Elton.

“No.” Elton said after a moment.

John squinted. “‘No’?”

“Like Bernie said — I really don’t feel that well.” Elton explained, adjusting his grip in Bernie’s hand. Bernie made sure to keep that out in the open, and John was trying very hard to ignore it.

“I don’t care if you’re feeling well or not—“

“You should, you know. Managers like you, especially with a band like Queen, with a man like Elton? You should be grateful that they often make time for _you_.” Bernie stated, and then glanced to Elton with a gentle smile. “I think Elton deserves a break. He’ll call you in a couple of days. Or maybe I will, seeing as all my calls to him go to you.”

John was beyond upset — He was hoping to catch Elton alone and do what he had to do, but Bernie was posing a great problem being around. He didn’t say anything for a while longer, before huffing and heading towards the door. He turned to face them again when he was by the entrance, though was only speaking to Elton at that moment. “You and I will have that chat in a couple of days.” He said, “Whether you want to or not.” And then, in another moment, he disappeared and slammed the door shut behind him, the only evidence of him leaving being the footsteps and car engine.

Elton felt as if an enormous weight left his shoulders. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. At the very same time, he felt as if everything was crashing down at him at once, and mentally, he began to panic. John was going to kill him — He really, _really_ was going to kill him, and he appreciated Bernie so much for helping him stand up to him, but...

_John was going to kill him_.

Bernie didn’t let go of Elton’s hand, especially when he realized Elton’s quickened breathing. His other hand smoothed to Elton’s shoulder. “Hey— Elton, it’s all right— Calm down—“ He said, but Elton was fidgeting, trying to cringe away from Bernie at first. “Elton— _Elton_ — It’s just me!” Bernie said, a bit louder but not enough to startle him further.

Elton’s chest was rising and falling rather swiftly, abdomen rolling with each breath. He couldn’t tell if it was from the drugs, the scene that just unfolded or both, and he could barely determine such while he was having a breakdown. Bernie, nonetheless, was right there for him in a heartbeat. He was hushing him softly, encouraging him with tenderness to calm down as opposed to John’s cruelty. John had grown so cold towards Elton recently, so harsh, that he forgot what it was to be touched as gently as he was now.

Bernie grazed his fingers through Elton’s drying hair, a hand sliding to the back of his head to cradle it, almost guiding his best friend to look at him. “Hey,” He whispered softly, and gave Elton a small smile. “Just me, Reggie. Just Bernie.”

_Reggie_ ; Despite disregarding it before, Elton would admit the fact that hearing that name from Bernie’s lips again was enough to still him considerably.

And then, everything came back at once, and everything swarmed in — John’s anger, John’s abuse, Bernie’s very much so unrequited love and that stupid tent years ago, all of the drugs, the need, the hunger...

He needed more pills.

He released Bernie’s hand and huffed, trying to crawl off of the newly made bed, though as he sat up, he couldn’t even spot any of his items around the room.

Items being drugs. Cocaine. Alcohol.

All of it was out of sight.

“What is it, Reg?”

He blinked, frowning deeply. “The— Where’s...” He faded off for a moment, bringing one leg over the bed to try and get off of it, but as soon as both legs came over and he tried to stand up, he nearly fell. Bernie was quick to stand up right away as well and catch Elton before he fell, having a tight grip on his friend.

“The drugs, the— My drinks— Where’s the tonic? And... And gin?” He said, trying to remove himself from Bernie’s arms, but he only ended up grasping onto him again when he lost balance once more.

“C’mon, sit down, Elton,” Bernie said, tone soft as always, guiding him back to the mattress.

“No, Bernie, you don’t understand—“

“None of that stuff is good for you, Elton...”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ , Bernie, I— I need it!”

Elton was shouting at that point. He was furious, body already showing symptoms of withdrawal and his eyes darted around the room. He had to admit, his room did look much cleaner without all of the cocaine dusting the tables and without all of the half-empty bottles lying around.

He hadn’t realized his fingers were trembling. He had only become aware when Bernie took ahold of his hands, grasping them softly.

Elton shut his eyes, exhaling as he squeezed back. “I’m sorry.”

His expression was one of slight pity, though it was mostly kindhearted. “I know.” Briefly letting go of Elton’s hands, he grabbed a chair from aside and brought it over, in front of where Elton was sitting. Taking a seat, he took his hands once more, glancing up at him. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, Elton.” He said softly. “You don’t have to be afraid to ask for help.”

Elton kept his eyes shut for a little while longer, and when he opened them, they were watery and red. It was clear he was on the verge of breaking down. “I can’t do it.” He whispered, though barely got the words out as he choked on them.

“You can.” Bernie encouraged lovingly.

He shook his head, and felt something hot and wet roll down the age of his face; A tear. Saline and symbolic of his vulnerability. “I’m not the same, not— Not without the drugs—...”

“You are.” He said in return. “You’re Elton John. You’re an absolute legend.” He found his eyes. “And deep down inside, you’re Reggie. Reggie Dwight.” He removed only one of his hands from Elton’s to place them on his upper arm. “That’s more than enough for me.”

Elton’s eyelids squeezed shut once more, and this time multiple tears spilled down his cheeks as a sob slipped from his lips. He hunched over slightly, and Bernie leaned forward to wrap his arms around him, eyes closing as well as he brought him into a loving embrace.

Bernie’s not sure how long they were there, hugging, how long Elton had cried. Either way, he was right there for him, keeping him close, telling him that it was okay to cry; The tears reminded him that he was alive. He was here, breathing, and he was fighting through this. Bernie was just here to fight through it with him.

Elton quieted after some time, but he didn’t pull away. His face remained buried within Bernie’s neck, breath hot against his skin, which was soaked from the now-drying tears. He grasped at Bernie’s button-up while Bernie’s hand rest at the back of his head, grazing fingertips through his ginger hair. Reassurance was a constant of which Elton needed, and he didn’t realize how wonderful it was to receive that from his best friend.

Best friend. Elton often wondered if Bernie still considered him even an acquaintance. His feelings for Bernie, the emotions he felt for him, never quite faded... They may have grown hidden over time, stowed away while he figured Bernie was happy with a woman while he was stuck with Reid, but... They were never absent at any point in time. Elton knew he was still horribly in love with Bernie, and continued to figure that Bernie didn’t and would never feel the same away at all. He knew he had to accept that in order to move on, and he knew he had to let Bernie go.

Besides... He was still with John, right?

Elton believed this to be a burden for Bernie, to be here taking care of the addict as if he was a child. Bernie didn’t deserve this, not at all, not when Elton was sure he did not want to be here.

Finally pulling back after a moment, Elton breathed in, and Bernie thumbed away his tears.

He turned his chin away from the touch, and for a moment, Bernie was puzzled.

“Come away with me, Elton.” Bernie whispered. “You and I— Let’s find somewhere quiet to stay. Somewhere for us to be alone, just you and me, where we can write and make songs together again.”

It sounded as a dream in Elton’s head; yet he knew the catch was that it was entirely platonic. He couldn’t accept it, he couldn’t stay with Bernie for all that time alone and not act upon his feelings.

The only issue was that it was entirely romantic, and Elton had absolutely no idea.

“We should go.” Bernie said softly. “It’ll give you a little breathing space.”

Elton glanced to his friend, once more searching his expression and finding his eyes. “No— Bernie, you should go.”

Slight hurt crossed Bernie’s expression. What had changed? Had he said something wrong?

“I think— Maybe it’s better I write with other people.” Elton swallowed thickly. “The both of us, work with other people.”

Bernie released Elton’s hands; Elton felt as if he made a mistake, but didn’t act.

“You should leave,” Elton continued, though his mind was telling him to do otherwise. “You always leave at times like these, anyway, don’t you Bernie?”

Inhaling, Bernie brought a hand through his hair and then stood up from his seat. He could have sworn he was finally getting to Elton, finally helping him... Yet Elton still seemed as if he wanted nothing to do with him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He said quietly, sliding the chair back to where it was originally.

“Course you will.” Elton grumbled under his breath, shifting on the bed and turning away from Bernie. He laid down after a moment, head beginning to spin once more.

He could have sworn Bernie said something about calling if he needed anything, but he was out the door before he could figure any of it out.

Bernie left the lyrics of _Your Song_ on the night table before he exited. They were meant for Elton, anyway.

*

Months passed once more — Bernie hadn’t really kept track of time, and although he never forgotten about Elton, he tried not to think of him very often. He was trying. He really was. He tried working with other artists, attempted fueling the passion of other musicians, but they couldn’t quite accept what he had to offer. It was either too much or too little, or they couldn’t come up with a melody for the story Bernie had to tell.

It didn’t take him very long to let go, returning to a regular job for as long as he could.

The news wasn’t very quiet about Elton, so it didn’t exactly help, either. Everywhere Bernie looked, a new article about Elton came up. He was starting to have trouble distinguishing which articles were actually true or not.

He was at home, back at his rather small apartment to finish up some papers, when his phone rang. He finished up scribbling something down before he stood, picking up the phone and bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

It was silent, except for the slight buzz of the other line being on.

“...Hello?” Bernie repeated.

Silence again, and then—

“I fired Reid.”

“...Elton? Is that you?”

Bernie now only noticed the slight sound of breathing, and then Elton spoke up again.

“I cut myself.”

“What?”

“I—... I threw a glass. And I cut myself.”

Bernie brought a hand over his face, and then—

“I’ll be right over.”

*

Never did Bernie think he’d be driving this late months after he and Elton stopped speaking, and yet here he was. It was almost an immediate instinct — He had to be there for Elton, no matter what he needed, and if Elton broke a glass, he could have hurt himself quite bad. He could be high, underestimating just how much blood he lost, but either way, Bernie needed to be there for him.

He fired Reid. Elton fired Reid. _Good riddance_ , Bernie thought silently, tapping his fingers against the wheel to calm his worry.

His foot pressed harder against the gas pedal, and he turned on his signal to reach the exit.

*

Bernie was as gentle as possible to remove the shards of glass from Elton’s palm, despite the flinching and occasional and forward _ow_.

They were sitting upon Elton’s bed, though it was a new room — A different one, definitely, but it seemed much cozier, much quieter. Records were splayed on the floor, and many still in their case on the shelf.

It seemed secluded; somewhere Elton could avoid Reid.

“So, you fired him?” He asked softly, glancing up to Elton briefly, before focusing in on his hand again.

Elton nodded, watching Bernie work. “He’s out of the picture.”

“Good.” Bernie said immediately. “I didn’t like the marks he left on you.”

“It took me a while to realize what they meant.” He mumbled.

“I’m just glad you’re out of that now.” He said in return.

“Me, too.” He said quietly. “I probably should have realized sooner...”

“It’s not your fault.” Bernie reassured, looking to Elton.

Elton looked back at him, and in an instant, felt rather assured.

How could he have been so cruel to Bernie?

“Dinner.”

“Huh?”

“Erh— Sorry, I— Dinner? Do you want to have dinner with me?”

Bernie’s expression softened, and he smiled. “Well, if you don’t mind me staying.”

Elton may have come off as a bit... unforward? If that was a word. He did in fact want to have dinner with Bernie. At a nice restaurant, perhaps.

What he really wanted was a date. What he wanted to say was, “No, Bernie, I want to take you out to dinner where we’d drink a little too much, have too much dessert and end up snogging one another when we get home. Then we’d have sex and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Sound good?”

Instead, Elton simply goes, “I never mind you staying.”

*

“How has everything else been going for you?” Bernie asked softly, cutting into the roast that the housekeepers had made for them. Or, the chefs, Bernie supposes. He wonders if even Elton knows where his food comes from.

“Fine. Yeah, fine.” Elton nodded, taking a rather large drink from the alcohol he had just poured himself.

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” Bernie said softly, glancing over the table to him.

Elton shifted a little, slowly putting his glass down, nibbling on his bottom lip. Then, he looked down at his plate.

Bernie fumbled with his fork a tad. “I’m just looking out for you, Elton.” He said lightly. “I worry about you.”

His eyes finally traveled back up to his best friend again. “You worry about me?”

“More than you know.” Bernie replied.

Elton picked at some of the food on his dish, thinking to himself. “I’m... trying.” He said, swallowing a bit, waving his fingers a little as if it would help him find his words. “To get better.”

“I know.” He said in response. “I know you are. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

“You shouldn’t have to get dragged into this...”

“I’m bringing myself into it, Reg. You haven’t done anything to me.” Bernie explained. “I _want_ to help you.”

Elton continued to appear unsure, though he finally nodded, glancing back down to his dish. “Okay.”

“I do.”

“All right, Bernie.”

Bernie quieted for now, averting his eyes as well.

“I got the song.”

“Hm?”

“The song. Well, _Your Song_.”

Bernie’s expression formed to one of curiosity. “You did?”

Elton nodded, and he smiled a little. “I’ve been playing it nonstop since you gave those lyrics to me.”

“Really? Why haven’t you released it?”

Elton shrugged, flushing a tad. “I didn’t want to until you heard it.”

He smiled at this. “Surely you’ll show me it, then.”

“Uh—Yeah, I can—” Elton said, starting to get up already.

Bernie chuckled, holding a hand up. “After dinner, Reg—Finish your food, okay?”

Smiling sheepishly, Elton moved to sit back down. “Right—Course. Sorry.”

“That’s all right.” He assured him. “I’m excited to hear it, too.”

*

Reggie shifted on the piano seat, inhaling a little bit. “Okay…” He murmured to himself, more as a self-motivational purpose than anything. There was a slight buzz from the alcohol he drank, but otherwise, he didn’t feel drunk. Just nervous.

Bernie decided to plop next to him as he usually did, right on the piano seat. He did, however, give him plenty of space. He could tell Elton needed it. “Take your time.” He assured.

Elton glanced up at the lyrics, which still laid upon his piano where notes should have been. The lyrics were absolutely clear in his head, as was the melody. However, his fingertips were shaken, unsure, and he didn’t even tackle the idea of looking to Bernie at this very moment.

He adjusted his fingertips to match the keys.

As soon as he began to play, however, his movements were as sure as ever.

“ _It’s a little bit funny…_ ” He began, slow but certain, adjusting his posture a bit. “ _This feeling inside…_ ”

Bernie, despite seeing Elton create melodies instantaneously all of the time, was still amazed. He was absolutely talented, and hearing the lyrics he created sang from the heart was something else entirely – something entirely beautiful. He listened to Elton sing the whole time, shifting closer as he grew in confidence, watching the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips or the slight laugh at _then again, no…_. Bernie’s knees were slightly turned towards him, though he continued to give him plenty of space for his own legs, despite wanting to be pressed up against the other man.

He’s held in his feelings for so long, and felt as if he’s cheated Elton by not coming out longer ago. By not telling him that one night at the party.

“ _My gift is my song, and… This one’s for you._ ” Elton glanced at Bernie at that very moment, and he was unsure what overtook him. His fingers kept moving, kept playing the song, but in that second, everything stopped. Bernie was gazing right back at him, full of life and admiration, staring at Elton as if he was the entire universe forged into one single person.

To Bernie, he was.

“ _And you can tell everybody… This is your song._ ” He sang, right to Bernie, gazing upon him because the song was for _him_ , just as Bernie wrote it for Elton. He couldn’t be more blatant, more genuine and sincere, and something between them shifted positively, as if their souls were figuratively, if not spiritually, connected.

Bernie moved closer, even more so, and placed a hand upon the small of Elton’s back.

Elton shivered, and yet felt a blossom of warmth flower in his chest.

He kept going. He kept playing, and he really was singing his heart out, glancing to Bernie at the right moments, bumping knees with him every so often, and he was smiling, he was _really_ smiling.

He was happiest he’s been in a long time.

“ _What I really mean,_ ” He looked to Bernie a final time, “ _Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen._ ”

Bernie couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait, not a second longer – He was torn between allowing Elton to finish the song, or snogging him on the spot because _fuck, he loved Elton._ He _loved_ Elton.

Bernie was smitten, and he wasn’t going to let this rubbish go on any longer.

The piano keys seemingly halted as Bernie leaned forward. Elton’s eyes went wide as soon as their lips connected, Bernie’s nose bumping Elton’s glasses, smudging them with fog, but he found so little care for such a small thing. Elton’s eyelids fell shut eventually as well, and he breathed in through his nostrils, wanting this to last forever. He’s been waiting for this for years. _Years_. And now Bernie was kissing him, and Elton, he was kissing back. His lips parted almost desperately, and a soft groan of approval slipped past them, Bernie’s fingertips curling around his waist to guide him closer upon the seat. A hand came up as well, fingertips caressing the side of Elton’s face, bringing him closer within the embrace to take in all that he could. Elton tasted of alcohol and sprouts, whatever greens they had had for dinner – And there was something else along the lines of sweet that Bernie couldn’t pinpoint, but he was hooked.

As all else goes, he pulled away after a moment, quite literally breathless.

“Bernie, I—” Elton shook his head in disbelief a tad as they pulled back, and after processing what happened, panted out a, “I thought… I thought you—“

“Were straight?” Bernie chuckled, keeping his hand were it was upon the side of Elton’s cheek. “I’ve been in love with you since the Troubadour, Elton.”

Elton blinked, and his lips parted in shock. “The _Troubadour_? And you didn’t fucking think to say anything?”

“Elton…”

His words were cut short when Reggie leaned forward this time, hungrily attacking Bernie’s lips.

Bernie grinned against the kiss, accidentally bumping into the piano, causing a flat chord.

“That dinner – It was a date, wasn’t it?”

Reggie laughed a little. “Let’s move to the bed.”

*

Bernie brought fingertips through Elton’s hair, planting a kiss to the center of his forehead. The both of them were completely naked, beneath the covers of Elton’s bed in his room, or whatever room the piano had been in.

They slept together; After all these years.

Reggie had been dozing off by now, snuggled within the warmth of Bernie’s chest, truly at peace, sincerely content. He had missed Bernie so much.

He had craved Bernie for so long. Nothing could have made him happier than to spend the rest of his life with his best friend. To finally reconnect with the mothership, reconnect with Bernie, realize all of these years what he had missed.

Bernie closed his eyes, guiding Elton closer within the comfortable quiet of the bedroom. They’d talk in the morning. There was no need to ponder now; Bernie had Reggie, and Reggie had Bernie.

That’s all they’ve ever needed, really.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I know _Your Song_ was created much earlier, but I thought it fit within this fic very well. Sorry if that bothered anyone. <3


End file.
